


This Good News

by kijikun



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M, angelic big bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-13
Updated: 2012-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-29 10:51:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kijikun/pseuds/kijikun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley and Aziraphale have received a very special delivery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_This Good news from Heaven angels bring._

It was a perfectly normal Tuesday[1], well as normal as they go at any rate and the year two thousand and ten was still rather new so the mean for "perfectly normal" could change rather quickly. If it hailed every Tuesday for two months then people would think it perfectly normal if it hailed on Tuesday, but rather odd if it didn't.

In any case, it was a Tuesday[2].

There were two vaguely woman-shaped beings frowning down at a requisition form that had come across one of their desks. It wasn't that they hadn't seen a requisition form, they saw thousands of requisition forms in any given day. Requisition forms for new bodies [3], for eclipses, for rain storms, for a certain sporting team to win, and for major miracles, the usual sort of thing. There was even a complete subset of forms for babies, taking into account various variables.

It had, though, been quite some time since they'd seen this particular form.

"Are you sure this is right?" one asked in hushed tones. She didn't need to, but this was the most excitement she'd had since one of the Serpheim filled out a form requesting pants.

The other snorted in a very unangelic fashion. "Do you want to go and question them about it? Because I sure don't. Just push it on through. It's filled out correctly, signed in all the right places."

"But it's...wouldn't there be more of a to-do about something like this?" the first asked. It was an awfully big thing after all.

"They probably want to keep it hush-hush. You know how the Archangels are[4]," the other said and waved her hand. "Just push it through. Let them downstairs[5] question it."

The first nodded then smiled serenely. "Ineffability."

"Quite right."

And the form was pushed through.

 

[1] It was actually a Thursday.

[2] No, I'm sure it was a Tuesday.

[3] Not because the requester had lost the first body mind you, that was a different department that handled that, but because the requester wanted something a bit more..stylish or something in a blond. Heaven saw very few of these. Hell was quite another story.

[4] Neither of them knew how Archangels were, in fact, since they both had the alarming tendency to giggle when Michael or Gabriel were around. The rest seemed to have no reason to come to that part of Heaven. Angels after all are above such things as avoiding people.

[5] She was of course referring to their corresponding department in Hell. They questioned and rejected almost every form they came across and a few they didn't. And while Heaven's forms only had to be filled out in triplicate, it took months to fill out the forms on Hell's side. The departments had only approved the same request on two occasions, but as there was rarely call for Heaven and Hell to agree on anything no one cared much.

***

"A.J. Crowley?" the red-headed female shaped being asked, just as he'd climbed out of the Bentley. She had a bundle of blankets in one arm. She also looked all of ten years old, but Crowley could sense a good deal of power in the small form.

Crowley blinked behind his sunglasses and peered down at her. "Yes?"

"Oh good. Your partner Aziraphale wasn't at home. I was starting to worry we'd have to arrange another method of delivery and wouldn't that have ruffled some feathers both upstairs and down," she said in obvious relief. She snapped her fingers and a office appeared around them. "And wouldn't that have been a disaster. First fledgling in two millennium[1] and we botch the delivery? We'd be a laughing stock and I'd be out of a job. Sign here, please." She gestured to a set of forms on the desk.

It was a standard goods received form, well standard as they can be in such things, listing the names of the receivers [2] as Crowley and Aziraphale using all their names including, in Crowley's case, 'Crawly' . The goods received were listed as -- Crowley's brain at that point decided that re-engaging was in the best interest of everyone involved.

"Fledgling?!" Crowley did not exclaim in a rather high pitched undemonic way. "I'm not sssigning for an infant. This is obviously a mistake."

The girl raised an eyebrow. "You are A.J. Crowley, are you not? Then there is no mistake. The fledgling is yours. Well, half yours anyway. Now if you don't mind signing the forms? I'm on a schedule you know, and this has already put me a hour behind. I've got a meeting with a errant fertility spirit in the states who thinks babies are to be used as rewards, and if I don't get a move on I'm going to have to reschedule which will make her rather unhappy." [3]

Crowley was sure someone downstairs was having a good laugh right now. A fledgling? With Zira? Impossible. The boys upstairs would have put a stop to any such nonsense even if it were possible. "I'm not signing," he told the scowling girl firmly, pushing the papers back towards her.

The girl smiled with very sharp looking teeth. "You can sign and take the fledgling now or I can arrange for it to be delivered in nine months. Take your pick, demon."

"That isn't much of a --" Then it occurred to him just what she meant and he'd learned never to underestimate female shaped creatures when it came to things taking nine months. Especially small ones that appeared harmless. "This isn't a joke then?"

She sighed. "That's what they used to ask all the time. This is so much easier with humans. No forms have to be signed, so much less paper work for us."

"Er, right. Any particular name..."

"Angelic if you please. It'll look better if we're ever audited[4]," she said with a conspiratorial smile. Crowley shuddered, he could sympathize with wanting to avoid audits.

Then Crowley, already regretting it, signed the form.

She handed him the blanket wrapped bundle. Then she tore the pink copy off the form and handed that to him as well. "The pink copy is yours. Thank you for doing business with us. Congratulations and good luck. Oh, do be careful of its wings[5]." With that the office and the girl-shaped creature were gone.

Crowley was left standing on the pavement just outside the Bentley holding the bundle. Which was starting to snuffle. Cautiously Crowley peeked inside the blankets. Sleepy mismatched eyes, one goldish yellow, one blue stared back up at him. A patch of dark curls adorned the tiny head. Inside the folds of the blankets he saw white downy feathers.

Oh bloody He -- Hea-- Manchester.

 

[1] Whether or not this baby was the first fledgling in two millennium was hotly debated in the organization. Some claimed that the Anti-Christ otherwise known as Adam Young claimed this title. While others pointed out that while Adam's father was indeed a an Angel (even if of the fallen variety), Adam didn't have wings and therefore didn't count. Still others (a very small group that played scrabble a lot) ventured (quite correctly) that Adam had simply been born too early to be considered the first fledgling in two millennium, but no one liked them much.

[2] Listing all known names angelic or otherwise of the parents had become common practice soon after the Grigori realized that being a man-shaped being and making an effort with a female of the human variety was quite enjoyable.

[3] Fertility spirits are not creatures to annoy or make in any way unhappy. You also might wish to avoid making them drunk or happy. In fact, avoid fertility spits spirits if you possibly can.

[4] Hell insists audits were a Heavenly creation, while Heaven insists Hell started the whole business. Audits are universally feared.

[5] Any readers that have cared for baby birds will understand this bit of advice for the new father.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 _A baby is God's opinion that life should go on. - Carl Sandburg_

Aziraphale's first clue that anything was remotely wrong was upon arrival at Crowley's flat that afternoon. He'd had a pleasant day shopping for new stock for his store[1] and considering it was February the weather was quite lovely, for London[2] at any rate.

On entering Crowley's flat he couldn't spot the demon right away, but the plants looked positively glowing and several of them had bloomed quite out of season[3].

"Oh dear, he must be in a snit, "Aziraphale tsked, shutting the door behind him. He took off his coat and hung it up, no sense in being untidy just because his lover and friend was in a mood. He checked the kitchen first, then the balcony. The study was also empty. Aziraphale frowned slightly, he was sure Crowley was here somewhere. He could feel it.

"Crowley, dear?" he called, heading towards the bedroom. He hoped Crowley hadn't decided to take a nap[4]. Thankfully, he found the demon in question sitting on his bed, not asleep. He had a bundle of something in his arms and his sunglasses off. "Ah, there you are. What have you got there?"

Crowley looked up and narrowed his yellow slit eyes. "Angel if you wake her, after I jussst got her to ssleep," he hissed softly. Aziraphale blinked at that[5]. "I swear to Manchester I'll --"

The bundle of blankets moved, and made a soft noise. Oh, no. He wouldn't have. Crowley just wouldn't have. He was all temptations not -- the anti-Christ aside --

"Ssshh," Crowley whispered to the bundle. "It's just the angel."

Aziraphale moved closer and hoped to see just about anything[6] in the blankets but what he thought. A head of dark curls was the first thing he saw and he sat down rather abruptly on the bed. He'd be expected to deal with this. He'd be expected to fix this. He wouldn't be able explain this away to his superiors.

Crowley sighed. "She cries loud enough to wake the dead, did wonders for the plants though," he sighed softly, but his lips curled upwards.

"Crowley, how could you?" Aziraphale said just as softly. He loved Crowley dearly, so very dearly. It would kill him to harm his demon. Maybe it wasn't too late, if Crowley returned the baby now --

"Bloody had to," Crowley muttered. "Threatened to send her some other way if I didn't sign for her. They tried you first but you were playing hard to get, so I had to sign for the fledgling."

Aziraphale was sure his eyes went comically wide. "Fledgling?" He got a better look at the baby and saw part of a tiny white feathered wing. "This has to be a mistake."

It wasn't because they were both vaguely man shaped beings. That didn't matter to angels and demons, no matter how fond they were of their human forms. Fledglings just _weren't_ allowed any longer [7]. He hesitantly reached down and touched the white feathers.

Wings like his and hair like Crowley's, but what of her eyes?

Crowley glared at him. "Don't you dare wake her up."

"This has to be a mistake," Aziraphale repeated in case Crowley had suddenly gone addled.

Cautiously, as if he was dealing with a hell-beast not a tiny fledgling, Crowley eased the bundle onto the bed. "Ssee for yourself," he told him, picking up the pink paper on the nightstand the demon, who rarely used his bed, certainly didn't need.

Aziraphale took it, and looked it over. Looked at Crowley's signature, looked at the approval signatures from Michael and Beelzebub themselves. Not a mistake at all then, but it was highly irregular, and really they both needed to contact their respective departments and sort this all out. No one surely thought to have given a fledgling to a Fallen and a disgraced Seraphim.

"She hisses," Crowley told him, resting his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder. There was certain smugness there. "And she fluffs up her wings when she's angry[8]."

"I -- what do we _do_ with her, Crowley? [9]" Aziraphale whispered. He looked towards the baby, as she shifted in her blankets and rubbed a tiny fist over her eyes. Her wings were more visible, white and downy. He slid an arm around Crowley.

Crowley sighed against his neck. "I was hoping you'd have an idea, Angel."

Aziraphale closed his eyes for a moment. "We should at least get things she'll need in the meantime until we -- sort all this out. Babies seem to need a great many things these days." He was quite sure there were books for this sort of thing. "We don't even know if she'll need food since she's, well -- a baby shaped being. A crib is an easy enough place to start. I can miracle one up in the bookshop --"

"You are not keeping her there," Crowley protested.

"Why ever not?" Aziraphale asked feeling slightly insulted. If his wings were out they would have fluffed up.

Crowley snorted and nipped at Aziraphale's ear. "Azira, I know you like your dusty little shop, but you are not shoving our fledgling in the backroom."

"I would never --"

He was cut off with a kiss. "Shh, you'll wake her. We'll keep her here -- until things are sorted."

Aziraphale nodded. "Right, just until things are sorted."

 

[1] What this actually means is that he was shopping for books no one would buy.

[2] Which means it stopped raining long enough for the sun to think about coming out for a few seconds.

[3] Ferns do not bloom at all, but Aziraphale can be forgiven for this oversight. Gardening was more Crowley's realm.

[4] Crowley's dealings with the concept of naps is documented in The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch.

[5] It's a well know, to some, fact that Crowley, or as he's known it some, Crawly, only hisses then he's agitated. Aziraphale is just too well bred to bring it up often.

[6] What exactly the former angel of the Eastern Gate thought could be in the blankets is unrecorded. Raphael had his bets on a snake, while Remiel was quite certain it was a monkey.

[7] The business with the Nephilim put everyone off the whole prospect. Gabriel wouldn't even speak to Michael for years after.

[8] Aziraphale denies to this day that he fluffs his wings when angry. Crowley denies that he finds it rather cute. Demons to do not find things cute.

[9] Many new parents have asked themselves just this question. They, at least, had roughly nine months to think over the question.


	3. Chapter 3

_'The beginning of wisdom is to call things by their right names' - Chinese Proverb_

It was several weeks after the arrival[1] of the fledgling and neither Heaven nor Hell would admit to any sort of a mix up. Which frankly worried Aziraphale to no end. Fledgling's weren't just given out of the blue[2] and most certainly not to a demon and a demoted angel. He wasn't at all sure how to act around the tiny thing. Her wings were so delicate and he'd never -- he'd never really handled a fledgling before. What if he _dropped_ her for Heaven's sake?

Crowley certainly seemed to have no such problems. The tiny baby shaped being stayed at Crowley's for the most part unless he decided to bring her around for a visit. Which wasn't often[3]but Crowley had been right, the bookstore was not no place for a baby, whether human or simply baby shaped. There was also the little issue that she couldn't properly tuck her wings away.

Crowley thought it was cute[4].

The bookstore was closed up for the day and Aziraphale headed over to Crowley's flat, hoping to at least share _part_ of a bottle of wine. Crowley wasn't in the living room, but that was a rather common occurrence these days. The demon was quite...enthralled by the fledgling. It made his heart flutter, when he saw Crowley smiling and playing with her. Crowley, for whom temptation was almost a pastime, being so... Aziraphale didn't dare think that Crowley was in love but he certainly seemed to adore her.

The plants seemed to be rather confused by the whole thing[5]. Some were blooming others were wilting and some were a odd mixture of the two.

The first room Aziraphale checked was the study. Crowley liked to sit in there, pretending to work, while the fledgling slept in her crib. He was just inside the door when he came to a abrupt stop. Gone was the sleek "modern" looking furniture that Crowley was so proud of and all the gadgets with them. Instead, there was a crib complete with the sleeping fledgling, a mobile of animals hung above the crib, and the walls were painted with a mural that made him think of Eden[6] \--

"What do you think, Angel?" Crowley asked coming up behind him, resting his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder. "Thought it suited, and it isn't as if I need an office, is it?"

Crowley had made the fledgling a nursery. "You made her a nursery," Aziraphale said. He loved Crowley so much in that moment he thought he might burst from the form he held. His wonderful, tempting, selfish demon had given up something he loved for _their_ fledgling.

"You have wonderful powers of observation. No wonder you've kept me from tempting all of England so long," Crowley teased into the shell of his ear. "Took a bit of doing to get the walls right."

Aziraphale swallowed, but allowed himself to lean back slightly. "Dearest, do you think it wise to have something so close to --"

"The real thing?" Crowley finished. "She should get a little glimpse of it. Only the best for our fledgling."

The fledgling sighed in her sleep, her tiny downy wings shifting slightly. He wondered if Adam had ever looked so beautiful to his parents -- real or otherwise. But he must have. All parents thought their children to be the most beautiful in creation[7]. "It's wonderful."

Crowley kissed his throat, then grazed his teeth along the vein. "Course it is, I made it. I know quite a bit about the finer things the world can offer."

If Aziraphale had been less well bred and polite he would have snorted. "You'll spoil her, dear heart."

"I'll try, but you'll make sure I won't, won't you 'Zira?" Crowley's smile was pressed to his skin, arms sliding around his waist. "I draw the line at tartan."

Aziraphale frowned and tried to turn to glare at Crowley. "There is nothing wrong with tartan.[8]"

"There is everything wrong with tartan, Angel," Crowley laughed, kissing Aziraphale as he turned. "We should name her. Apple is perfect."

"Apple is _not_ an appropriate name for a fledgling, dearest. Temptation and all that [9]," he protested. "She should have a proper angelic name."

Crowley scowled at him. "No sshe will not," he hissed. "Sshe iss half mine."

 _Oh_ , how had he forgotten, how could he have forgotten? Crowley was stripped of his angelic name. Had been since his fall, since before he earned the name Crawly. Before the garden, before the apple. "Something else then, Crowley, but not Apple."

The dark head was pressed against his shoulder, which muffled the next words. "Temptation, Angel, she's a product of ours."[10]

Aziraphale slid his arms around Crowley's slighter form. Apple. So many things went back to that apple. And wasn't it the whole reason they were even here now? The entire reason _their_ fledgling slept soundly in the crib? "She needs a proper middle name then, dearest."

Crowley's fingers tangled in the hair at the back of his neck, as Crowley raised his head. "How about Lilith?"

The expression Aziraphale made must have been quite hilarious to the demon because Crowley laughed so hard he woke their fledgling -- he woke Apple. She didn't cry but giggled and cooed, and cuddled against Aziraphale’s chest when he picked her up.

Apple was a dear little thing.

 

[1] Delivery sounded too much like someone had given birth or she'd been left on the doorstep wrapped in brown paper.

[2] That brief incident that no one talks about with Anael and Uriel aside.

[3] Crowley had brought the fledgling around to the shop precisely three time. Not that Aziraphale had been keeping track.

[4] He did, of course, not actually say he thought it was cute. Aziraphale knew him well enough to translate.

[5] You would be as well if you were a plant. If you were a cat you wouldn't care in the slightest.

[6] Aziraphale, quite reasonably, did not dwell upon Eden often.

[7] A tradition started with God, who thinks all his children to be the most beautiful in creation. Even the platypus.

[8] There is everything wrong with tartan.

[9] It also sounded close to something one of those Hollywood actors would name a child. Not that Aziraphale paid any attention to that sort of thing.

[10] Love at times is confused with temptation. Or is it the other way around? In any case people and demons love temptation, though this has nothing to do with the text.


	4. Chapter 4

_“Those things which are precious are saved only by sacrifice.”_ \- David Kenyon Webster

 

Aziraphale has settled into the life of a parent reasonably well, he thinks. Not so much as Crowley who's taken to the whole thing as if he’s done it before [1].

He’s managing though. When Crowley isn’t available to watch little Apple, the duty falls to Aziraphale. Not that he minds, mind you. Apple is partly his fledgling after all and she is a sweet little thing.

It’s been a month since she was given to them and still no word from either his or Crowley’s superiors. Aziraphale is starting to think they’re just going to ignore the whole issue. If he’s lucky they’ll ignore it until Apple is old enough to protect herself and decide if she’ll follow Crowley’s side or Aziraphale's.

Something inside Aziraphale's true form aches a little at the thought of her having to choose, but that is the way of things. She might be ignored until she’s older, but he cannot see Heaven or Hell ignoring her thumbing her nose at the whole thing and not picking a side.

There’s plenty of time to worry about that, though, Aziraphale assures himself. For now Apple is sleeping soundly in her crib in the backroom.

She still sleeps most of the time, at least she seems to when Aziraphale has her. Maybe Crowley just keeps her up playing too much. Granted she cannot sit up yet, and her idea of playing is having her hands in the air and trying to grab her toes.

Apple, when she’s in the front room with him, does distract a great deal of people from buying books. They stop and coo over her then quite forget why they were in the book shop to start with. Aziraphale finds that quite agreeable.

There’s a sound from the backroom something quite unlike the sounds Apple makes. Then Aziraphale feels it, the presence of another angel.

He doesn’t even bother to turn the sign to closed as he hurries back to where his fledgling lays sleeping and defenceless. Not that he want to believe one of his brothers would hurt a fledgling, but there have been times when such things have been deemed necessary.

Crowley will never forgive him if he allows it.

It’s Gabriel standing over the crib, peering down at the fledgling within.

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale gasps, feeling out of breath even though he doesn’t need air.

Gabriel lifts his head slightly. “Hello, Aziraphale.” He looks back into the crib and reaches out towards Apple.

Aziraphale moves faster than he has since the aborted apocalypse. Apple’s in his arms and clutched to his chest in the space of a human heart beat. “What do you want, Gabriel?”

“Can I not just pay a visit?” Gabriel asks, sounding slightly exasperated “Everyone always thinks I’ve come with bad news. Why is that?” 2

“Because you so often come bearing bad news,” Aziraphale points out. “Why are you here?”

Gabriel sighs. “I’m here for the child.”

“No.” Aziraphale holds her tighter. Oh where was Crowley? Why hadn’t Crowley taken her for the day instead of going out to spread mischief?

Gabriel frowns slightly. “I realize,” he starts then pauses. “I know you love the fledgling, but she’s not supposed to be.”

Aziraphale shakes his head. “Gabriel, please.”

The older, higher ranking angel is quiet for a long moment. “A compromise then,” he says softly. “If only because of her duel heritage.”

“A compromise?” Aziraphale repeats, because it seems beyond belief that Gabriel would...tweak...his orders.

“Either you hand over the child or you come back to Heaven with me,” Gabriel looks at him gravely. “For reprimand and reassignment.”

Everything in Aziraphale goes still. Reprimand? Reassignment?

That would mean leaving earth. Leaving his beloved _Crowley_.

“May I have time to consider this?” Aziraphale asks, shakily. Apple is making soft noises, her tiny wings fluttering.

Gabriel shakes his head. “Decide now.”

Aziraphale rests his forehead against the crown of Apple’s head. Crowley would maybe forgive him for leaving one day, he’d never forgive him for letting their fledgling be taken away. “I’ll go with you,” Aziraphale says softly.

Gabriel nods. “This does not bring me pleasure.”

“I know,” Aziraphale assures him, though privately he resents Gabriel in a very unangelic way. “I need to put things in order here.”

“You will come now,” Gabriel tells him. “The demon you consort with will be along soon.”

Apple makes a soft questioning noise patting at Aziraphale’s face. “May I at least leave him a message?”

Gabriel seems to consider this. “He will be informed of your recall. It is time to leave, Aziraphale.”

Carefully Aziraphale puts Apple back in her crib. “Crowley will be here shortly,” he promises her, even knowing that he knows she doesn’t understand.

The last thing he hears before leaving with Gabriel is Apple starting to cry. It cuts at his heart.

[1] Which he hadn’t. Holding the anti-Christ for a short time really doesn’t count.

[2] Gabriel likes bringing good news much better. Sadly, there hasn’t been much good news to go around of late.

 

***

 

Crowley pushes open the door to the and is greeted by the sound of a baby wailing[1].

“Angel?!” Crowley calls out, hurrying to the backroom.

He finds Apple safe and sound. The fledgling, while safe, is obviously upset as she cries fiercely in her crib. “Hush now,” Crowley tells her, scooping her up into his arms.

She quiets some, but is still crying. Her eyes are rimmed red and her face is red as well from crying. She’s _never_ cried like this to Crowley’s knowledge. He wouldn’t have allowed it [2].

“Angel?” he calls out again, fear creeping into him. Aziraphale wouldn’t have left Apple all alone and crying. The angel could be absent minded but nothing like this[3].

Apple gives out another soft wail and clutches at Crowley. Her tiny wings flutter in distress.

“Sssomething's happened, hasn’t it? Ssomething's finally happened,” Crowley says softly, stroking Apple’s back. Months of waiting for the other shoe to drop and now it has.

The question is just what does the shoe look like? [4]

That's when he sees it attached to Apple’s crib. A scroll.

A scroll of the angelic kind.

He winces and shifts Apple in his arms. “They wouldn’t have killed him,” Crowley reasons. “That’s more my side's sort of thing.”

Carefully, he takes the scroll. It’s in Angelic of course, but Crowley still remembers how to read it[5].

The language is surprisingly unfussy or long winded. _Gabriel_ , Crowley thinks. He always did like to get right to the point. Almost got him in trouble with Mary from what Crowley heard from Zira[6].

Aziraphale has been recalled to Heaven. It seems impossible.

It also hardly seems like punishment for Aziraphale to be recalled to Heaven. Well, not completely like punishment. There is far worse they could have done or demanded...

Crowley clutches Apple a little be closer and wonders how close they were to losing her. Apple sniffles into his coat, leaving the collar sticky with snot. “Zi,” she whimpers.

He’s not sure if she’s trying to say Zira’s name or just babbling, but won’t the angel be --

It suddenly sinks in that Zira isn’t going to be around to be thrilled at whatever brilliance their fledgling says. Zira’s recall could last centuries.

“Don’t suppose you fancy a hundred year nap, love[7]?” Crowley asks Apple softly.

She just curls her tiny hand tighter in his coat. “Zi,” she says again mournfully.

“Didn’t think so,” Crowley sighs.

 

[1] She was wailing in that particular way only babies can. Like the world has ended, started again, and is once again ended.

[2] In fact, Crowley already had a rather long list of things he would do to those who made Apple cry. Chances of her having her pig-tails pulled were slight, but Crowley was prepared.

[3] Aziraphale once became so enthralled in a certain set of books he forgot to pretend to eat for the purposes of fooling his ‘fellow’ monks. For almost two months. The monks were very much impressed.

[4] Crowley had guessed on a steel toed stiletto.

[5] Most demons don’t remember how to read angelic. Crowley remembers how to both read and speak it. Often he wishes he didn’t. It leads to....longing for things.

[6] “Mary, God’s knocked you up is a rough vernacular of what Gabriel actually said to Mary. The Gospel writers took some liberties.

[7] The last long nap Crowley took lasted most of the 19th Century.


	5. Chapter 5

_Any mind that is capable of real sorrow is capable of good. -Harriet Beecher Stowe_

Crowley spends the first three weeks holed up in his flat with Apple. He doesn’t go out, he doesn’t tempt1. He even fills out some bloody paper work.

And he keeps expecting Zira to show up.

Even Apple pauses hopefully in her play to glance at the front door.

He watches the telly, though he refuses to put it on those syrupy sweet children's shows like Zira insisted. Apple doesn’t take any notice of the telly though, she’s more interested in her stuffed snake. She squirms on her stomach or her back playing with her toys in the focused way fledglings do. The snake is her favourite, though it winds up in her mouth more often than not.

“Sssss,” she hisses at it and it makes Crowley quite proud.

But there’s a hole as he sits there watching her. Three weeks and it feels like months.

Crowley is fully aware he’s brooding, but his companion -- friend -- dammit -- of centuries is gone. His lover is gone. Recalled back up to Heaven.

Crowley wonders if they’ve demoted him again. He tries to remember if that’s possible.

“CROWLEY,” the telly says.

Crowley nearly falls off the couch. Apple stops playing with her snake and turns her head curiously. He fights back the urge to gather her up and hiss.

“Yes, lord?” he asks, trying very hard not to sound worried.

“CONGRATULATIONS.”

Crowley blinks. “Congratulations?”

“ON MANAGING TO GET THAT ANGEL RECALLED. WELL DONE.”

“Uhm, thank you.”

“YOU’LL RECEIVE A COMMENDATION FOR THIS.”

“It was nothing,” Crowley says, glancing at Apple and willing her to stay quiet.

Apple, of course, picks that moment to make a soft bird like noise of curiosity.  
“THAT’S RIGHT, CONGRATULATIONS ON THE BECOMING A FATHER. WE’RE SURE YOU’LL RAISE A FINE LITTLE DEMON.”

Crowley blinks again. “Thank you very much, lord, for your confidence in me.”

“DO YOU THINK SHE’D LIKE A HELLHOUND? ADAM ENJOYS HIS WELL ENOUGH.”

“I think she’s rather young for it,” Crowley says, trying to think of what in the world he’d do with a hellhound.

“PROBABLY TRUE. MAYBE WHEN SHE’S TEN. KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK, CROWLEY and that’s the news for this evening.”

Crowley slumps against the leather back of his couch and blesses under his breath. Apple goes back to playing with her snake. “Right, enough of this for one night. Rot your brain.”

Apple coos at him.

“How does a bottle sound? One for each of us,” Crowley suggests, because it’s about time to feed her and because he needs a drink2.

Even if he will have to sober himself up.

[1] He tempts the Indian take out man, but that hardly counts.

[2] More accurately, Apple needed her bottle, he wanted a drink. Demons aren’t very good at being truthful even to themselves, even about little things.

 

***

 

It takes another week before Crowley decides he’d best go and try and tempt someone. Spread a little bit of misery and sin1.

He certainly can’t leave Apple at the flat though.

That’s why she’s bundled up and tucked into her stroller. “Your first day going to work with daddy,” he tells her more cheerfully than he feels.

It just won’t be the same without Aziraphale around2.

They go towards the park first, Crowley eyeing people from behind his sunglasses. Along the way he tempts a business man to take a personal lunch and put it on his expense account, a University student to skip her classes for the day in favor of video games, and a middle age husband and father to flirt with a young woman at the bus stop.

He also deprogrammed all the phone numbers from the Blackberry phone of a someone whose yelling was threatening to wake up Apple.

All in all, he thought he was doing quite well for the start of the day.

“Oh isn’t that cute,” he hears a woman say. There are a gaggle of mothers with strollers and prams by some playground equipment, and one of them is looking at him like he’s some sort a saint.

The thought makes his skin crawl.

“I adore fathers that aren’t too busy to take the baby out for a stroll,” another mother sighs.

“He’s so handsome too,” says one mother feeding a baby.

Crowley wonders if it will attract too much attention to turn around and walk _away_ from the mothers.

“Shh or he’ll hear you,” another woman hisses. “You’ll embarrass the poor man.”

“Oh so what?” the first one sighs. “Maybe he’ll come over and chat.”

Crowley thought there was little chance of that. Apple makes a cooing noise from her stroller. Then, “Ducks,” she declares4.

Sure enough there are ducks, beside the group of women. They quack hopefully as if they can sense a potential bread giving mark from there5. If Aziraphale were here, he’d scold Crowley for even thinking about not giving bread for Apple to give to the ducks.

Though he’s not sure she’s even old enough to throw the bread for the ducks.

“Ducks!” Apple says again, this time in a bit of a demanding tone. “Da!”

Crowley sighs. “You’d better appreciate this,” he tells her and heads towards the ducks and the mothers.

Apple crows happily and waves her hands in the most adorable fashion.

Maybe he can tempt some of the women into breaking their diets, that might salvage this.

“Oh isn’t she just adorable?”

Crowley grits his teeth and smiles. Trying not to show any fang.

Next time he goes out tempting, Apple will have a babysitter, he decides then and there. Maybe Anathema. She could certainly handle a half angel, half demon baby, couldn’t she?6

Oh how he misses Aziraphale.

 

[1] He does so enjoy it.

[2] So many things aren’t the same without Aziraphale. Eating, drinking, sleeping. Living.

[3] Only certain groups of mothers can be rightfully be called a gaggle. One On the whole Crowley thinks mothers are a pretty sensible lot. As humans go.

[4] It sounded a bit too much like a holy proclamation for Crowley’s liking. She would have to get that sort of thing from Aziraphale's side, wouldn’t she?

[5] Ducks can actually sense a person likely to give them food from a kilometer away.

[6] Anathema Device certain could and does handle a half angel, half demon baby quite well. She can and does spoil said baby. Apple nearly always winds up going home with a new toy. Anathema even handles Apple’s attempts to fly, but that’s a story for another time.


	6. Chapter 6

Adam has grown a great deal since Crowley last saw him. He’s shot up in height and lost the boyish look. He looks scarily like his father.

His other father1.

The one that scared the Blessed skin off Crowley2.

“So this is Apple,” Adam says as if he expected them. Maybe he did.3

The young man bends down over Apple’s stroller and Crowley feels the urge to put himself between them. To shield Apple from Adam.

Which is ridiculous. The boy chose to save the world. Adam isn’t harmless, but he should be safe enough for Apple.

Apple coos and giggles and waves her hands at Adam. “She likes you.”

Adam smiles. “Of course she does,” he says giving Apple one of his fingers.

She grips it and tugs at it, trying to get it to her mouth.

“Careful, she’s teething, “Crowley warns feeling slightly bewildered.

Adam laughs, a happy sound, thankfully. “I don’t think that’s a problem unless she’s poisonous.” He looks up at Crowley a curious look in his eyes3. “Is she?”

Crowley shakes his head, no venom from Apple yet. “No, not yet at least. Hard to say with her so young.”

“Getting older,” Adam points out. “We grow up fast.”

Crowley looks Adam over again and nods. “That you do.”

Adam laughs again. “So what is it you want, Crowley?”

Crowley blinks behind his sunglasses. “I thought it proper to bring her for a visit.”

Adam’s smile is sharp, but not unkind. “I doubt you came all this way just for that. You want to talk about Aziraphale.”

Crowley doesn’t inhale sharply only because he doesn’t need to inhale at all. “He’s been recalled to Heaven. Nothing to talk about,” he says with a shrug. “Nothing I would bother you with.”

“Hm, what do you think Apple?” Adam asks the fledgling. “Do you think we should talk about Aziraphale?”

“Zira?” Apple asks curiously and looks around. “Zira!”

Adam wiggles his fingers. “Zira’s up in Heaven,” he tells her as if she’ll understand.

Apple looks back at him with wide mismatch eyes.

“Yes, up there,” Adam goes on. “Higher than you can fly until you're much older.”

Crowley does not shift uncomfortably. Nor does he twitch. He has much better control of his body than to do such things4.

Adam looks back up at Crowley, eyes too honest for Crowley to really stomach. “So, let’s talk about Aziraphale.”

“Adam,” Crowley starts.

“You haven’t mounted a rescue mission I see,” Adam says almost in a disappointed tone.

Crowley chokes slightly. “With Apple to look after?!” he half shouts, then straightens his sun glasses. “I mean it wouldn’t have been, oh bugger.”

Adam rocks back on his heels regarding Crowley. “So no rescue mission. Hm, just brooding over him then are you?”

“No,” Crowley does not stutter. “I haven’t been brooding. I’ve been tempting. I’m getting so much more work done with Aziraphale gone.”

“But you don’t like getting some much more work done,” Adam points out.

Crowley moves the stroller back and forth to sooth Apple. “No,” he admits very softly. “It’s not the same.”

Adam rocks up onto his toes. “I’ll see what I can do,” he says suddenly. “I’m not sure what they were thinking recalling Aziraphale. I mean, what are they going to do with him? Guard duty again? Hardly, after the muck ups he’s done.”

Crowley bites his tongue on defending Aziraphale. Because yeah giving up the flaming sword to Eve and stopping the Apocalypse were kind of muck ups. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I haven’t done a thing,” Adam tells him. “And it’ll only work if Aziraphale wants to come back to earth.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Crowley demands.

Adam just shakes his head. “I should go,” he says and leans down to kiss Apple’s forehead. “Bye, pretty girl.”

Crowley gets the sudden urge to lock Apple up away from all boys5.

 

[1] The father that sends Hellhounds as birthday presents, not the father that gave Adam a video game system for his last birthday.

[2] Granted Crowley was a snake at the time and was shedding.

[3]. Adam once had an obsession with poisonous things that looked small and helpless.

[4] In other words, Crowley was uncomfortable and twitchy.

[5] Starting with boys named Adam.

 

***

 

Apple crawls everywhere these days. Crowley marvels how quickly she went from wriggling like a snake on her belly to on her hands and knees zooming this way and that. Causing great fear in all plants that sit with in her reach.

Crowley’s had to move several of them out of her reach. The plants never looked better.

“Da!” she calls, pulling herself up on the coffee table.

“I’m watching,” he promises1.

It’s been six months since Aziraphale was recalled. Two since Adam promised to find a way to get Zira back to earth.

 _”If he wants to come,”_ Adam had said. Of course Zira would want to come back to Earth? What did Heaven have? The Sound of Music?

Down here the angel had Crowley, Apple, his bookstore, tartan...

Why wouldn’t Aziraphale come back if he had the chance?

“Da!”

“Mhmhm,” Crowley murmurs, glancing at his small daughter. Her wings are flapping like she wants to take off as she carefully takes little steps holding onto the table.

Crowley rubs the bridge of his nose. He’d have to get Anathema to watch Apple while he did some tempting tomorrow. He’s been slacking and he’s not going to push the amount of leniency he seems to be operating under.

Apple’s presence is still a wild card. Sometimes she thwarted him just by being, other times she tempted 2.

Made it hard to do his job in any sort of efficient way. Besides, he could heard Zira in his head going on about not being a good influence.

He snorts. A good influence, really. He’s a demon for Hell’s sake.

Apple makes a high triumphant sound and Crowley quickly looks over.

There’s his fledgling taking tiny steps towards him. Not holding onto anything.

 _She’s walking_.

The swelling of pride in his chest makes it hard to breath. If he needed air.

“That’s my girl,” he tells her.

She looks up at him, mismatched eyes bright. Then she falls on her bottom. She makes a noise of frustration.

“You’ll get it,” he promises her, getting to his feet. He picks her up and spins her around.”My clever girl. Bet you’ll be hovering in no time.”

He kisses her forehead. “Wait until Zira...” he trails off.

Six months and he still forgets.

[1] He says in the voice of most fathers who are not really watching at all.

[2] Mostly she tempted people into wanting children, but the world was overpopulated so Crowley counted it.


	7. Chapter 7

Aziraphale has strayed to the edge of Heaven before1. He’s not forbidden to look down on Crowley and Apple, but it’s not been exactly encouraged.

If Aziraphale is honest with himself, he’s been scared. He’s frightened about what he might find when he looks down on London. Will Crowley have gone back to tempting like he had before the agreement? Will Apple be healthy and happy? Will Crowley be happy?

He has too many questions and he worries about the answers.

The temptation, in the end, is too great.

Aziraphale peers over the edge of Heaven and down to Crowley’s flat.

Crowley’s sprawled out on the couch, limbs going every which way as they do when he naps. Apple is nestled on his chest. Oh how she’s grown. Has it been so long?

Or do fledglings just grow faster than he remembers?

“They look quite peaceful,” a voice says behind him.

Aziraphale starts and looks towards the speaker. It’s Anael.

She smiles at him. “Don’t look so worried, Aziraphale, looking isn’t forbidden.”

He thinks maybe it should be. It’s too tempting to go to them. “It makes me -- want -- things,” he admits carefully. Anael has always been more his sort of angel than Michael. And maybe she understands just a bit better than others2.

“Wanting isn’t a forbidden either,” Anael says, with a smile. “When it’s done from a place of love.”

Aziraphale looks back down towards Crowley and Apple. “I do love them. Dearly.”

Anael touches his arm. “Aziraphale, I don’t understand you. If that was my -- “ she shakes her head slightly. “Why do you not go to them?”

“I’ve been recalled to Heaven,” Aziraphale points out. “I must remain until I’m reassigned.”

She laughs softly, a light airy sound. “Aziraphale, you were recalled. No one has said you may not go back.”

Aziraphale stares at her. “But Gabriel...”

“Gabriel speaks in riddles and jests. You know he’s constantly trying to teach lessons. Did it not occur to you that this was one of his?” Anael asks.

“I --” He glances back down, then back at Anael. “I can't disobey, Anael.”

Anael sighs and shakes her head. “Oh Aziraphale,” she sighs and leaves him.

Aziraphale moves away from the edge of Heaven. He can’t disobey. He can’t fall. He loves them, but he _can’t_.

[1]Once, very long ago, he sat at the edge of Heaven with another angel whose name is lost. They passed long hours watching Earth.

[2] Aziraphale is much too polite to bring it up.


	8. Chapter 8

Apple doesn’t often sleep with Crowley, but tonight he’s allowing it. She’s been fussy all night and it’s put the demon on edge in a way he can’t explain.

“Shh, sleep now,” he coos to her, stroking her back.

It’s nights like these he's missing Zira. The angel had a way of calming their fledgling on the few nights she was fussy. He’d stroke her hair and whisper to her, then she’d settle right down.

Crowley doesn’t have the same touch. Difference between an angel and a demon. He’s not meant to calm or comfort, but he’s all his fledgling has.

So he has to be bot2.

She finally settles down, her snake tucked under her arm. Crowley sighs in relief and considers sleeping himself. Something feels -- off.

He can’t put his finger on it. It’s something that itches at the back of his mind.

Crowley covers Apple up with a blanket and slips from the bed. He prowls the flat. Stands on the balcony for long moments scanning the street. Something isn’t right.

Then he hears it. A sound from the nursery.

Crowley doesn’t think he’s moved this fast since...

Ligur is leaning over the empty crib.

Crowley hisses, settling onto the balls of his feet, his claws out. “Ligur!” His feels his fangs drop, the trappings of humanity falling away.

He doesn’t give the other demon time to turn before he launches himself at Ligur.

The crib is knocked over in the scuffle and Crowley’s never been so glad that Apple hadn’t wanted to sleep on her own tonight. He slashes his claws across Ligur’s chest and refuses to think of what Ligur would have done.

Crowley decided holy water was too _good_ for Ligur last time[3]. This time he’s going to rip him apart with his own claws, then find him and do it again for good measure.

He’s got the upper hand, fury fueling his every movement.

Apple starts crying in the bedroom. Crowley glances towards the door for a split second.

“So she is here,” Ligur sneers and his claws drag down Crowley’s face.

Crowley hisses in pain and brings his elbow down hard into Ligur’s chest. “You. Will. Not. Touch. Her.”

“I’m under orders!” Ligur gets out, clearing seeing he’s not going to win this fight. He’s already bloodied and bitten. Crowley's venom has always been much more potent than most.

Crowley’s hand wraps around Ligur’s throat. “I don’t care,” Crowley growls out. He doesn’t care. He’s lost Aziraphale. He’s not losing Apple.

He’s not.

It ends with blood coating Crowley’s hands and soaking the rug of the nursery. His face is on fire from the cuts Ligur dealt him, but he’s won.

He gets to his feet. “Should send you the cleaning bill,” he tells the body.

A sound pierces the deadly calm that’s possessed him, the focus of battle. The sound of Apple crying. His head jerks up and he half runs, half stumbles from the nursery to his bedroom. Fear enters his chest and spreads, infecting him, chocking him.

Apple’s sitting on the bed clutching her snake. Crowley falls to his knees at the side of the bed and pulls her forward into his arms. “Sssshh, daddy’ss here,” he croons, burying his head in her curls.

He still looks monstrous. Fangs and claws. Inhuman. But he’s not human and neither is Apple.

“Da,” she hiccups and pats his bloodied cheek. He wishes Aziraphale was here.

“It’ss okay,” he lies.

It’s not okay. Crowley’s not sure it ever will be.

[1] Aziraphale was firm that fledglings needed to learn to sleep in their own beds. Or so the books about infants he’d read told him. Crowley felt it wise not to argue the point.

[2] Crowley remembers a time when he was meant for soothing and comfort. He wasn’t a fighter in Heaven.

[3] See Good Omens


	9. Chapter 9

_“Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration.” Charles Dickens_

Aziraphale lands on Crowley’s balcony1. It’s been a year since he left. Since he’d been recalled to Heaven. Since his own -- stupidity -- led him to be separated from them for so long.

He pushes open the door and steps inside the darkened flat.

There’s a hissing, clawing, Crowley on him in seconds. Aziraphale can feel Crowley's claws and see his fangs glint white in the street lamps. There’s an instinctive tremor of fear that goes through him1.

“Crowley, dear, it’s me,” Aziraphale hurries to say. His wings are pinned down, but he could use the them to flip them both. All that training has had some benefits it seems, but this is Crowley, not some demon or angel come to threaten his family.

Crowley stills for a moment. “Angel?” he hisses.

Aziraphale takes a chance and reaches up to stroke Crowley’s cheek. When his fingers come across scar tissue he freezes. “Crowley, what happened to your face?”

The demon on top of him slumps on Aziraphale’s chest. “It’s you,” he says. “Good.”

Then he kisses Aziraphale quite soundly.

“What happened?” Aziraphale demands when they break for air they don’t need. “My dear...”

Crowley shakes his head. “I’ll tell you later,” he promises. “Apple is ssafe and sleeping.” He nuzzles at Aziraphale’s throat.

Aziraphale feels a hint of fangs and feels a shiver of want3. He’s _missed_ Crowley’s bites. “Oh Crowley, I’ve missed you,” he whispers, like a secret.

“What took you so long,” Crowley demands, which might be the closest as Aziraphale will ever hear to Crowley admitting that he’s missed Aziraphale as well. “Too busy for usss?

Aziraphale silences him with a long kiss. His tongue strokes over Crowley’s fangs. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

Crowley snorts inelegantly. “You’d better be sorry,” he says nipping at Aziraphale's throat. “You're making an effort.”

“So are you,” he points out, stroking his hands down Crowley’s back.

Crowley’s grin is wide in the dim light. Oh how Aziraphale has missed that smile. “Let me tempt you, Angel,” Crowley says, pressing his hips down against Aziraphale’s.

Aziraphale gasps, and clutches at Crowley. “Always4.”

[1] The poison from a Demon's fang can be fatal to an Angel. Aziraphale has twice had a taste of Crowley's venom. Crowley only meant to poison him the first time. It had been a fight back before the agreement. Aziraphale barely survived. The second had been due to Aziraphale being bitten by a wounded and confused Crowley. They both blame themselves for that second bite.

[2] This is an erroneous footnote. Footnotes like these are often caused by bad numbers and over worked writers.

[3] Crowley’s fangs are only venomous when the Demon chooses it.

[4]Crowley is the only demon, angel, person, or book to truly tempt Aziraphale. No matter what some might claim.

 

***

 

“She’s grown so much1,” Aziraphale whispers, stroking a finger over their sleeping fledgling’s cheek.

Apple is curled around her stuffed snake, one little arm flung wide.

Crowley crosses his arms and leans against the door frame of the nursery. “She walks and hovers now,” Crowley tells him. “Says a few words2.”

“And I’ve missed so much.”

“You could have checked on us from Heaven,” Crowley points out. He wants to bristle at Zira despite their _warm_ welcome to each other in the kitchen.

Aziraphale bows his head. “I couldn’t,” he admits. “It hurt too much to think of seeing you both and not...” he trails off. “I am sorry, my dear.”

“You didn’t ask to be recalled, “ Crowley points out. He watches how Aziraphale’s wings twitch and move. The angel still hasn’t put them away, speaking to his scattered mind. Aziraphale is -- slimmer than he was, more muscled. As if he’d been training with a sword again.

The angel is quiet. “I did.”

Crowley goes still.

“You asked to be recalled,” he asks, coolly. He feels drenched in ice water, all warmth drained away.

Aziraphale nods, damn him. “Gabriel gave me a choice,” he says as if reciting something he’s gone over time and time again. “Apple’s life or my recall. I had to go.”

“And they’ve just let you come back? No strings?” Crowley demands. He’s a demon, he can’t trust this.

“I left without orders or permission,” Zira tells him.

Crowley darts forwards and grips Aziraphale’s arm. “Zira, you did what?”

“I couldn’t stand it any longer. I wasn’t being guarded and no one monitors the entrance to earth,” he pauses and laughs in a strained way. “Anael, she said I could have left at anytime.”

Crowley recalls Adam’s words and suddenly they make sense. “But you’ve rebelled.” Fear eats at him, the thought of Aziraphale falling suddenly at the forefront of his mind.

“I won’t fall,” Aziraphale says firmly.

“You rebelled,” Crowley points out again.

“For love,” Aziraphale tells him gently, reaching up to stroke the fading scar on Crowley’s cheek.

Crowley snorts.

“And no one said I couldn’t leave Heaven. I was recalled not reassigned.”

Crowley’s not sure if he’s going to start laughing or crying. So he kisses Aziraphale instead.

Apple sleeps through the night.3

[1] Children tend to grow more when you aren’t looking.

[2] Those words are: Da, Zi, snake, bottle, juice.

[3] Parents of very small children will agree that this is worth noting.

 

***

 

Epilogue

 _“If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.” - Orson Welles_

 

 _Two months later_

It’s a rare sunny day in London. An Angel and a Demon are in the park feeding the ducks1.

Apple toddles after the ducks more than she feeds them.

She waves her little arms and quacks at them.

“I think she has it out for the black duck,” Crowley says smugly.

“My dear,” Aziraphale admonishes. He throws a bit more bread to the ducks brave enough to brave a toddler.

Crowley grins. “I think she might catch one.”

“What would she do with it?” Aziraphale sighs.

“I don’t think she’s figured out that part yet,” Crowley says with a chuckle. “Just be glad she isn’t trying to _fly_ after the ducks.”

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale frowns. “I should get her, just in case.”

Crowley watches Aziraphale hurry after their daughter, whose giggles fill the area. Maybe this is all part of some great big ineffable plan. Crowley isn’t going to question. “It’s just ineffable,” he murmurs out loud, then gets to his feet to join Aziraphale and Apple near the water’s edge.

“Let me tempt you into some lunch, Angel,” Crowley hisses.

Aziraphale smiles fondly. Apple holds her arms up to be held.

They don’t go to the Ritz2.

The End3?

[1] There are several jokes that start that way in Heaven and Hell. All of them are bad.

[2] The Ritz is not child friendly. Or at least toddler friendly. Apple likes Indian food.

[3] One could say they lived happily ever after, but their problems aren’t over just yet.


End file.
